Marilyn smiles, her stilettos delicately balanced between metal and air. Did Winston imagine as a boy that he’d put the lights out in London town? When a woman’s blood ran through the street, why do only three people remember? There is a plan and you’re a part of it. There’s a bomb that has Old Testament stamped all over it. You didn’t get to write history but now you can. But there are agents in the darkness, and someone’s left a pistol in the room.
Jagged fragments are woven together as Lithium present us with an urgent account of an act of violence — Róise.
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